Spanish influence on the interior lay-out of the church. "It was a Catholic church, "I thought to myself as we walked along the high-domed corridor towards the sounds of clicking high heels that emanated from an office far down the hallway.

―

Now that it had occured to me I wanted to explore the pos- sible relationship of the Catholic faith to all that John had told me of the Femina outline I want- ed to ask Reverend Vincent how many of his transvestites were actually Catholic. But there was no time to think it all out, we entered the office before I could set my mind in any direction.

The office, though it still reflected the ancient design of the church exterior, was never- the-less quite modern, with long file cabinets occupying the side of one wall and several desks strung out over the rest of the pleasant-looking, pastel decorat- ed room. But I only really glanc- ed at the room my eyes were instantly fastened to the girls who sat behind the desks. And I knew they weren't actually women at all . .

...

John was leading me back through the rather long office to a somewhat larger desk in the rear where a very dignified ap- pearing woman sat busily en- gaged in going over papers. When she looked up I knew this was Reverend Vincent.

"Reverend Vincent," John said, "this is my colleague, Rev- erend Richard Spellman, the Baptist minister I told you about from St. Louis, Missouri."

"Welcome to The Church Of The Holy Femina, Reverend Spellman," and graciously, Rev- erend Vincent rose and extended a very neatly manicured left hand. The voice was richly mod- ulated and yet restrained, defi- nitely feminine, and I found my- self momentarily unable to think of Reverend Vincent in terms of either gender. "I'll introduce you to our office staff and show you around," Reverend Vincent said pleasantly, "this is quite a his- toric old building as you might have already noticed."

As we walked past each desk Reverend Vincent introduc- ed the office staff members by

their first names only. A betty, a Ruth, a Patricia, and I was only able to shake their hands and try not to stare at them. They were each very attractive and it was only in the firmness of their handshakes that I felt myself thinking they were men. One particularly tall one spoke, but even then, his masculinity wasn't betrayed, and he was just as fem- inine as the others. His name was Barbara.

"Are these

actually men?'

I asked, as we drew near the door of the office going out.

"They're church members," Reverend Vincent said cryptic- ally, "inside our church gender loses all its stereotyped signifi- cance." He smiled at John and myself and motioned for us to follow him as he led the way down the corridor. I had the chance then to casually observe how he was dressed. Quite con- servatively, I decided, a dark wo- man's suit, but not one with any tailored look to it. Hair that was rather short, but fluffy and fem- inine, and styled so that it was hard to imagine it was a wig. The sounds of his high heels clicking on the stone floor of the corri- dor made me again question why I was thinking of him in mascu- line terms.

We paused in front of a rather long, high-ceilinged room that I immediately recognized because of the toys and play- things inside. "A nursery?" I ex- claimed.

""

"Oh, yes, "Reverend Vin- cent said easily, "most of our members are married couples." I looked at John's knowing glance as Reverend Vincent went on to explain. "Over there is an entrance off the street," he said, "where the children can be brought in by parents who would rather not have the little ones see the father in feminine clothing. Others, "Reverend Vincent quick- ly went on, don't mind this at all.”

"I might as well tell you, Reverend Vincent," John said, as he noticed the dark expression cross my face, "Richard here is more than skeptical about your church and what your movement stands for."

"Oh?" Reverend Vincent

33

replied, allowing a smile to cross his otherwise serious face,"we welcome controversy, we've had plenty of it since we organized. It took a California Supreme Court decision before we were granted a charter."

"John was explaining that well, that none of your male members are homosexuals," I said, trying to keep from sound- ing too skeptical.

"Yes, that's true, our philo- sophy is centered around the vir- tues and characteristics instilled, or shall I say imprinted, in men by the mother, and other females important to the early develop- ment of the youth, those charac- teristics, traits and interests that Western man cannot express or develop without fear of being less than masculine, without feel- ing he'll be called a sissy or, yes, a homosexual. The homosexual male has already succumbed to this fear, or denies it, and has sought the refuge of other men. He couldn't comprehend the feelings Femina men have to- wards the female," Reverend Vincent concluded.

"But couldn't this all be acheived without the carnival atmosphere of of having men masquerade as women?" I asked, "afterall, the very fundamentals of the Christian faith teach love of our fellow man, gentleness, kindness

•

""

"Yes," Reverend Vincent broke in enthusiastically, "but our society is so ruthlessly com- petitive and aggressive that men can never really come to a pro- found understanding of the gent- ler aspects of their personality. We bear witness to this inner, and too often suppressed gentle- ness, by dramatizing its expres- sion through the clothing that is appropriate for it.”

""

"You keep saying clothing those men in your office are completely disguised as women, I said, rather letting my skepti- cism overwhelm me. "If they come here or leave that way they're compromising innocent people who take them for fe- males on the street, they're pos- sibly breaking city ordinances, committing a sin and still you call this a church and your move- ment a religion," I finished ra-